


Give Me What I Want

by amanda_jolene



Series: Punk Rae [7]
Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: F/M, Gen, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 09:24:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1464148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amanda_jolene/pseuds/amanda_jolene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom!Finn and Sub!Rae (very light)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me What I Want

She asks about his fantasies one night. 

He’s barely breathing as is, sweat still shimmering in the dips of his body and all he can manage to gasp out is “Huh?” 

“You know, like, do you ever wish we did certain things?”

Finn crinkles his nose, willing his chest to stop heaving long enough to form an answer. They’d been together for five months and he loved everything they did together. “I dunno. What sort of things do you mean?” 

She sighs like he’s dense and he wonders how she’s always so much more in tuned sexually when he was the most experience. “Finnley, what do you think about when you masturbate?” 

“For fucks sake, woman!” He laughs to hide his embarrassment, his cheeks probably burning bright red. “You do blurt some shit out.”

“I’m serious!” She huffs, swinging a leg over him to straddle his stomach. “Tell me!” 

“I think about you!” It’s the honest truth. Finn had a number of memories (real, imagined and borrowed from tacky porno mags and movies) he used to call forth late at night but they had all been erased by the sound of her moan in his ear and the heat of her mouth and the fine wine taste of her on his tongue. 

“Better be me,” she teases, leaning down to kiss him. He’s sure it’s supposed to be just a peck but he locks a hand in her hair and keeps her steady while his tongue searches her mouth for something new. When they break, her eyes are shimmering, a smile on her face. “Was that your way of saying you want to be aggressive with me?” 

“No, I was just kissing you.” 

“Ah.” She grins like she doesn’t believe him (and at this very moment, he’s not sure if he believes himself either). “Ok, well, what am I doing in these fantasies of yours?”

“What we do now, I s’pose.” Well, it’s a half truth. He finds that the times when they are apart due to parents and friends, the mere thought of her breath against his neck and a half dozen sure strokes can send him over the edge (he is only a walking bag of love struck hormones, after all). But there are times, when he’s just had her in his bed or in her bed or wherever they’ve carved out space and time, that his mind conjures up scenarios of being more in control. He was used to being the leader in a relationship, the instigator and decision makes but with Rae they’d fall on supposedly equal footing (he was aware though that she controlled a good bit more because his brain always went weird and soft when he was around her like she was the best drink or drug he’d ever have). Sometimes he just wanted to have his bearings and not act like a complete moron around her. 

“Come on,” she pets his face lovingly and makes kisses faces at him that make him laugh. “Tell me. Costumes? Any fetishes? School girl, cheerleader, spanking-“

“Now there’s a thought.” 

“Aha, spanking. Again with the aggressive gesture.” She takes him in, her eyes raking his body and he’s not used to feeling self-conscious but he just wants her to be proud to have him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted to dominate me.” 

He balks at the word. Dominate was a word Rae and her friends spit out in anger when they were talking about equal pay and equal treatment and the bullshit tyranny of the patriarchy. It was a word he had catalogued in the back of his mind as out of bounds for him as a male (it set on the self next to the word cunt which he had stopped using as a derogatory name). “I don’t want to dominate you!” He vehemently denies her claim, shaking his head. “I would never.” 

“I don’t mean like you want to treat me badly or make me feel less than you,” she soothes. “I mean control, I guess. Tell me what to do a bit?” 

Yeah, ok. That sounds nice, he reckons. He had seen a porno once (lifted from Chop’s dad’s collection) where the guy told the girl word for word what he wanted her to do. It had sparked something deep in Finn but Chop had called it boring and couldn’t understand why the woman needed instruction (“Girls are just supposed to know.”). Finn had laughed and agreed but he started wondering if sex could be more mental than physical (it was quite the revelation for a 14 year old). He ate up books from Chop’s brother’s room that gave minuet descriptions of doms and subs, and he even tried it with a girl once but she had giggled too much and he gave up. 

“No, that’s not what I want.” 

She could tell he was lying by the set of his mouth, the way his lips had paused and twisted at the word no. “Finnley, really. Be honest.”

“I can’t imagine ever trying to control you.” 

“Well, out there, no. But in here…” she trails off. “Even punk rock goddesses have fantasies, you know.” 

He turns red again. He had been drunk and on fire when he told her she was a punk rock goddess and even though she had laughed, he knew she had been pleased. “What sort of fantasies?” 

“I asked you first.” 

It’s another test and Finn had been getting A’s so far. He sits up so that she’s forced back into his laps and his hands grab her arse, giving it a good healthy squeeze while he nips at her throat. “Yeah, well, I told you to tell me. I’m not asking.”

She makes a shuddery noise and whispers, “This.” 

“I can’t hear you, Rae. You’re going to have to speak up.” 

“This,” she says louder. “This is what I fantasize about.” 

“So you want me to tell you what to do? You want me to be aggressive?” When she just nods, he gently takes her chin in one of his hands and makes her look at him. “Rae. Answer me.”   
It’s a change, he decides. For him to feel in control and have her shaking like a leaf. “Yes. That’s what I want.” 

But before he can say anything else, they hear the front door shut and then they are scrambling to find their clothes while Linda yells up the stairs for Rae to come help her get the groceries in. Finn wasn’t supposed to be there (they weren’t allowed to be in the house alone since Linda caught Finn kneeling at the edge of the bed with Rae’s legs over his shoulders) and he had a feeling Linda might actually punch him this time. 

“You stay here,” Rae whispers, buttoning up her shirt. “When you hear us come back in, sneak out the window, alright?” 

He nods and pulls her in for a soft kiss, his demeanor back to sweet Finnley and he says “I love you” before she disappears out the door. 

She shakes her head, giving him a smile. “You’re something else, Finn Nelson. I love you.” 

(When he sneaks out the window, he figures he should head down to the pub but he decides he doesn’t want to be around anyone but her right now, so he just heads home and doesn’t sleep because he’s trying to figure out how you control a girl your heart beats for.)

His dad isn’t home and he could call Rae, see if she wanted to come over, but instead he pulls out some video tapes his 15 year old self had lifted off his dad and pops them into the VCR. It’s the first time he’s watched porn with his pants on and he’s sweating bullets because he knows he can’t do this stuff with Rae. He just can’t. It all seems too vulgar and disgusting (what was with these people and fucking spitting on each other?) and he can’t imagine doing anything less than worshipping her. He’s about to throw in the towel and just be content to grovel during his pilgrimage to her body (and hope she would understand) when another scene starts. 

He could do this. This was actually perfect. Quiet commands, it was the lilt of the man’s voice that caused the woman to tremble, not harsh grabs or rough thrusts or fucking spit. There was a gentleness in it that Finn felt probably didn’t belong in porn (probably why it was at the end of the tape because who really ever made it to the end?) and yeah, maybe it wasn’t about being harsh but it was about being stern. Rae was so used to being the aggressor, used to being in charge of every situation she was in and now she was handing over the reins to Finn (he has to lay back and breathe deeply at the implication that she didn’t just love him, she really fucking trusted him). 

They run into each other at school the next day (her days were spent mostly in the theatre) and his still melty Finnley and she’s still confident Rae and when she kisses him and raises her eyebrows, he blushes. “Tried to call you last night.” 

“I fell asleep on the couch,” he admits but omits the part where he was watching porn and fell asleep after hyperventilating about the fact that she was giving him control when he knew control was something she had a huge issue with. 

“Thought I’d scared you off.” 

“Never.” (and he means it because somewhere between the porn and hyperventilating, he realized he really was going to marry her and the thought had both calmed and ignited him in ways he was still trying to sort through.) “I’ve got an empty this week. Dad’s at conference.” 

She plays coy, another game. “Any special plans, then?” 

He shrugs. “Nah. Thought I’d invite the lads over for a party.” 

“Just the lads? Didn’t take you for that sort. Archie will be thrilled.” 

He staves off another blush because they were in the middle of the hall, damn it, and the boys in the locker room already took the piss out of him for looking like a whipped dog. “Don’t be cheeky. It’ll just be me and you.” 

“You’re very sure of yourself. What if I say I’m not coming?” 

It’s the first real power play they’ve ever had and she’s dangling it right in front of his face. Part of him, the eager puppy part, wants to blush and wag around and beg her to come around but there’s another part that tells him to straighten his spine and pull it together because she wants this. This whole scene belongs to her, much the way he does, and he’s just acting out what she needs (and what he needs, too, if he’s honest). His arm threads around her, hand flat on the small of her back so she can’t step away when he gets a thread closer than what’s appropriate for a hallway at college. Lips descend near her ear. “Oh, you’ll be coming. I’m sure of that.” He dares a nip at the shell of her ear and is rewarded with a sharp intake of breath, her hands fisting the bottom of his shirt. “I’ll pick you up after practice?” 

She manages a nod and he gives her a blistering smile, kissing her properly on the mouth. When he gets to the end of the hall, he looks back and figures he’s on the right road because she’s leaned against the wall, eyes closed like she’s trying to collect herself before she pushes off and gives some guy a scalding look for getting in her way, disappearing into her classroom.   
But he’s sweet Finnley when he picks her up and he dotes on her and kisses her cheek (and makes the other girls swoon in the process). She did tell him that she wouldn’t be controlled here and he’s fine with that because he’s not sure he can really even handle her when they’re alone. But it’s worth a shot. 

There’s a moment of disappointment when they get to his house and the phone is ringing shrilly. Finn knows it’s going to be Chop, it’s always Chop, and he tries to tell him that they will not be coming to the pub but then Rae says something about needing to talk to Izzy anyway and he shoots her a glare that snaps her head back, eliciting a smile. He’s the one dangling the power in front of her now and he knows if she takes it, it will shatter what little confidence he had built up in telling himself that he could do this, that he could be less melty and dumb and more aggressive and sure. “Well, I mean, it’s up to you.” She tells him, cuddling up to his side and he tells Chop they’ll be there (even though it’s clearly his decision, he still wants to do whatever she does. Nothing more and nothing less). 

He only drinks one beer that night and has 2 shots of something clear, just to bolster his nerves and guts and spine. The other lads are properly trashed, Chloe has wandered off with someone and the place is getting ready to shut down. The barkeep hollers last call and Rae’s off to the jukebox to play one last song. She’s got black jeans on with holes at the knees and a red flannel shirt with the top few buttons popped open, hair falling over her shoulder as she makes a face at the poor music selection being offered. Finn is out of his seat and pressed against her when “Counting Blue Cars” by Dishwalla starts. “Not bad,” he tells her. 

“Not the best.” She responds, another 20p in her hand. “Think we’ll have time for another?” 

“No.” He pulls her away and waves to their friends. “No time at all.” 

Chop makes some rude remark that gets jumbled through the alcohol on his breath but Izzy smacks him anyway and Archie is passed out on the table. “We were all in rare form tonight,” Rae laughs when they get outside. “You made a lovely decision, sir.” 

He pauses while handing her a helmet. “Say that again?” 

“You made a lovely decision?” She questions, confusion lacing her voice. 

“Nah, the last bit.” 

“Decision?” She laughs and backs up when he takes a step towards her. “I always knew you were a filthy boy, Finnley. I mean, sir.” 

She keeps back up, rounding the bike and he finally says “Stop” and she gives him a coy smile “Yes, sir.” He’s not sure what he’s doing, when his body shifted into a position where he was actually a bit above her (he figured she cowering or maybe it was the absence of her boots) but it makes his heart race and he doesn’t feel like an eager puppy, he feels like he’s in possession of a beautiful woman and he knows she wants him to kiss her, but he puts the helmet on her and motions for her to get on the bike.

For once he’s not the overeager one and it’s a change he relishes. She kisses him first and tugs at his shirt and he has the pleasure of being the cool, collected one (if only for a moment) when he gives her a chaste kiss and asks, “Care for some music?” 

She’s thrown off, completely and utterly. “Not particularly.” 

He shrugs, shedding his jacket. “A drink then?” 

“Are you playing games with me, Finnley?” 

“I dunno. Am I?” 

“Two can play.” 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

They skirt around each other for a few minutes. Shed shoes and socks, her shirt hangs open over a thin, lace camisole and he strips to his jeans, makes a tiny drink and watches her rifle through his records (even though she didn’t want music). It’s a daunting task, staying away when they are both so lusty for each other and Finn cracks first but he figures if he’s going to be in charge, he might as well. 

The glass gets set on his nightstand and he moves behind her, pressing his erection against her bum, hands sneaking under the camisole to trace filth on her skin. He nudges her hair away from her neck, lips trailing and dragging up and down, teeth nipping, tongue soothing until she’s leaning back into him, a record clamped tight in her hand. “Put it down,” he tells her. 

“Huh?” She’s dazed. 

“Put the record down,” he tells her more clearly. “And turn around and look at me.” 

She does as she’s told and it sends a thrill down his spine when he’s face to face with her. Her lips are parted and she’s already got that deliciously glazed look in her eye (the one he only gets to see post-orgasm) and it spurs him on. “You can tell me to stop at anytime, you know that, right?” She nods and he tilts his head a little, a smile tugging at his lips. “Rae. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good girl,” he’s not sure the voice belongs to him because it sounds too deep and throaty to be his own. He smoothes her hair back and then his thumb is tracing her lips. “So unless you’re telling me to stop… I don’t want to hear anything from you… until I say. Understand?” 

She almost says yes but catches herself and his heart is beating so loud that he has to swallow the sound. It’s torture for her because she’s so vocal and breathy and he can tell by the crease in her brow, the way she shits her eyes so forcefully at times that it’s taking every bit of her concentration to say silent as he slowly finishes undressing her. 

When her hands move to his belt, he grabs them both. “I didn’t say you could do that.” She looks shocked and then confused and then she’s undulating under his skillful fingers, head buried in the crook of his neck, teeth clamping down to keep from moaning and he moans for her because the feeling of her silently falling apart is more than he can handle. She’s on an edge and he moves his hand faster, whispering softly in her ear “Don’t come.” 

She cries out at this, breaking the no noise rule but he lets it go because he’s sure he’d make the same sound if she did it to him. He says her name as a warning and she chokes back another frustrated sob as his fingers slow, his mouth pecking at her neck and jaw and cheek as he whispers “Good girl.” 

It doesn’t take much to get her off balance and sprawled across the bed and it’s a change because usually he’s the one staring up at her looking confused not the other way around. “Tell me what you want.” 

She’s at a loss for words and it’s the first time he’s ever seen it happen so he basks in it just a little and figures he’s doing something right. “Rae. I asked you a question.” 

Her hands move towards his belt again but he catches them, pulling them in close to his stomach as he crawls over her, a knee planted firmly on either side of her hips. “I said tell not show. Tell me what you want.” 

“You.” Her voice is soft and fluttery and it takes every ounce of strength in him not to drop the charade and just worship her on the spot. 

“I’m here.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Obviously I don’t if I’m asking.” 

She looks so uncomfortable because she’s not used to anyone, especially not Finn, forcing things out of her. He knows this must be a chore, letting someone boss her around and be in control, so he slips her a small smile to let her know that under this domineering act, he was still Finnley and she was still in control of whatever they did. “I want you to fuck me,” she finally tells him, her cheeks heating up and it’s hard to believe that this is the same girl who was asking him about his masturbation habits last night. 

It’s not the step by step verbal play he had imagined, but he’s about to burst and he’s almost done playing games because the want of her is just too much. He releases her hands and together they work the rest of his clothes off and they fumble over the condom.

He’s a few strokes in when he realizes she’s silent beneath him. Her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth, face red with the effort of staying silent and he knows that he’s been right all along in thinking sex, good sex, is more mental than physical and he’s given his girl exactly what she wants. It drives him on and he’s never been much a talker, especially not during sex, but he finds himself slowly slipping in and out of her, teasing, testing and pulling her past what he’s sure is her breaking point. There are tears in the corner of her eyes and he brings a hand between them, thumb slowly circling her while he tells her, “Tell me how you want it.” 

Her breath puffs out and she croaks, “Harder.” 

Finn gives her just that. Harder thrusts but he pulls back so slow that she actually does start crying and it’s the teasing that drives him on until she begs for him to go faster. It’s over then and he’s in her ear, whispering filthy things and all she can do is grip his arms and hold on for dear life and bite down on her lip because he still hasn’t given her permission to speak outright. He’s so close and he knows she is, too, but she isn’t unraveling and it takes him a few confused moments to figure out why before he’s growling “Come. Now.” in her ear and he back arches off the bed, a scream ripping from her throat and things settle back in order because he’s the one dazed and spiraling out of control and her name falls like a waterfall from his mouth until he can’t speak anymore. 

It takes them a half hour to move. She takes in his disheveled appearance, hair sticking up in odd angles and laughs while wiping the leftover tears from her eyes. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He’s back to his sweet self, fretting over her well being, afraid he was too rough and that she didn’t stop him when she really wanted to. 

“Goddamn it, Finnley.” She’s still breathy and laughing, skin flushed in the moonlight streaming through his window. “Who knew you could be so…” she searches for the right word and laughs when she stumbles across it. “Vocal!” 

“I didn’t hurt you then?”

“No! That was wonderful,” she pulls him down to kiss him thoroughly and as much as he liked what they had done, he likes this more. “You’re the only person I’d ever let me boss around.” 

“Just here, though, right?” He teases. 

“Just here,” she confirms. “With a little proper training, I bet you’d be one hell of a dom.” 

“Shut up,” he blushes, ducking his head into the crook of her neck.

But it’s a thought.


End file.
